"it's easy to be a bad writer, but it's hard to wake up each day and devote a chunk of your life to bad writing."

Friday, November 27, 2009

HERE COMES NOVEMBER

here comes Novembercould be a fucking corpselong dead and frozen but it’s just another cold seatpark benchand above methe near naked treeswith the remnants of bird’s neststhat slouch in the brancheswhile the north church clock bellclangs five timeswelcoming the dark of nightwhich roars in with the trolleysand the busesthat pick up and depositall sorts of mineral peoplethat grow together to createthe livelier aspectof this townbut then a mosquitoa fucking mosquitobites my faceand I’m stunned at the audacity of the thingit being November and allshe should be deadbut she’s notand I scratch at the lump on my cheekand daydream about another woman to lovebut I cannot picture her face

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About Me

Jackson Warfield was born in a small town in New Hampshire on a dead end road. He has traveled widely and worked a variety of jobs, from digging ditches to walking dogs. He writes for entertainment, his own and others.